Bah ouais, je suis vivant. Mais je suppose que plus personne ne se souvient de moi.
Angelic Wounds
Could the night be afraid when destiny crush'd your dreams ?
Still the legitimate son of elegy smile in vain !
His rotten throne, your hopes oppress'd in harmony.
Then, should you look at the moon and pray for angelic kindness?
Yet you hear me, my anglelic wound, my deluded whore !
Within celestial play, paltry cherubs start'd a war !
But nor pain, nor lifeless God, for ages, ever ask'd solitude.
Ending in mindless winged childs, feeding at their wasted bones !
To be continued...
